Author's Note: Hello everybody! So this whole story is based off of a verse of the The Good Left Undone by Rise Against(hence the title). Each chapter is related to another song. This chapter is entirely The Good Left Undone. I just wanted to warn you that this is a different take on Miroku and Sango. I've been taking a Women & Gender Studies course in school and wanted to blur the lines of both heteronormativity and monogomous relationships. (Usually people seem to think that anything else could not be satisfying.) Just so you know, some of this will change in the end.

The verse in Question:

All because of you I believe in angels
Not the kind with wings no, not the kind with halos
The kind that bring you home
When home becomes a strange place
I'll follow your voice, all you have to do is shout it out

Posted: March. 22, 2012

"Hey Miroku, wake up." His angel's voice was in his ear. When he opened his tired eyes, her pretty face was only inches from his own. "Ah! Good morning sleepyhead." She tucked her long brown hair behind her ear before sitting back, allowing him to sit up.

Miroku yawned and stretched, watching Sango as she stood up. She walked across the hotel. Nothing covered her body but a translucent white sheet. He could feel himself react, seeing the silhouette of her beautiful body moving.

"What time is it?" He asked. His voice was husky with sleep. Sango opened he door to the small bathroom.

"About noon. I forgot to set the alarm."

"I suppose it's a good thing that you don't have anywhere to be, then?"

"Hmm." Before she stepped into the bathroom, Sango let the sheet fall in piles at her feet. Miroku caught a generous glimpse of flesh, and tattoo, before the bathroom door shut. He resisted the temptation to follow her. If memory served, the door would be locked.

In the four years or so that they'd been in this relationship, they had never shared a shower. It wasn't for the lack of him trying, it was that Sango never acquiesced. No matter what he proposed, she wouldn't have any of it. It had ceased to bother him.

5 years ago

He was out of it. This trip surprised even himself. Trip? It was more like an escape. Anything that got him out from under the nose of his over-bearing mother, and away from his asshole of a father could be dubbed as such. This particular day, he pulled across the U.S. border and into Canada, flashing his passport and a smile at the blonde female officer, who proceeded to give him a hard time.

Leaving the country was a relatively new thing for him. His wander-lust and aversion to San Francisco, or home as it was, had grown exponentially over time. At first he'd crossed the state lines, then it wasn't enough. After a short time he'd been through all of the states at least once. Still, it hadn't satisfied him.

So, here he was on his first trip out of the United States. He'd chosen Canada as his destination, mainly because it was the last place that his parents would expect him to go. They were likely already tracking his credit cards, their own way of 'looking out for him'. He'd expected as much, and had taken out much of his savings, converting most of it to Canadian dollars before he even left San Francisco, to avoid their critical eyes.

Now, he was pulling into Winnipeg, a city which he'd never expected to see. His first thought was about how many trees there were. His second thought was about his need to find a gas station. His trusty Sting Ray's tank was practically empty. Soon enough, he came up to one and pulled into it.

"I forgot that they do this in liters," he murmured to himself. He shifted into park and removed the key from the ignition. "Fill with regular, please," he instructed the attendant, who nodded. He walked into the little building and wandered around until he heard the cashier call, "pump three?"

"That's me," he said, walking up to the counter.

"Co-op number?"

"Excuse me? Oh- I don't have one." The bored-looking cashier nodded and pushed a couple buttons on the cash register. She added on the price of the map of Winnipeg in his hand, and rattling of the price, accepted his money with an upturned palm.

Following the map, he came up to his hotel. He had chosen this hotel, which was not the best in the city for that fact in itself. Still, the Delta was comfortable indeed. He'd hoped so when he'd called to book his room for the week. The air-conditioning was refreshing, and the staff was friendly, personable, and polite. He walked up to the girl who was working behind the counter of a little convenience store in the building. She had darker hair than his own, and smiled in a welcoming way at him. With a bat of her long lashes, she responded to his flirting, which came so naturally to him.

"There's a band playing at The Kings Head Pub tonight. I was planning to go, if you wanted to join me. It's not that far from here" She invited.

"That sounds like a proposition that I would be a fool to say no to," he replied, flashing his lady-killing smile, She giggled, and wrote the address on a sticky-note, handing it to him.

"See you at nine?"

"You bet, gorgeous."

When he arrived at The Kings Head, which was a nice little pub on King Street, he paid the thin redhead at the door with a crisp green twenty. She handed him back a blue fiver, and stamped his hand with a black inked felt stamp. The atmosphere was relaxing, and he could see a few interesting prospects lady-wise. First things first.

He walked up to the bar and ordered a shot of tequila and a rye and coke. He took the shot, and one more before leaving the bar. He caught sight of Takara, the girl from the Delta. She was wearing a tank-top, and short shorts. He joined her at her table.

They sat and talked for about an hour, her drinking two blue lagoons, and him polishing off three more tequila shots and five drinks. Sadly, his tolerance wouldn't allow him to feel it yet. He would have to drink more to be consumed by the numbing sensation, which he did. Takara suggested that they go upstairs and see the band, which he could hear slightly from their seat. She also told him that there were couches on the second floor. He agreed to the move, buying them each another drink before heading up the narrow stairs at a leisurely pace.

Miroku was amused to find that when they arrived upstairs, a new song had started. Though all of the songs that the band played up until then had been original songs, this one was a sped up rock cover of If You're Going To San Francisco by Scotty McKenzie. His eyes passed the crowd and rested on the band, as Takara took him by the hand and led him to a couch, pulling him down to sit next to her.

There were four people on the stage. In the back was an energetic and pretty female drummer. Her long black hair was pulled back and tied in two thick braids. She wore a black t-shirt with a big green smiley face on it.

Next to her stood a guy with silver hair, which had to be died, pulled back into a ponytail. A bright red bass hung from a strap and almost blended into his bright red t-shirt. His jeans were tight, and he was scowling slightly, trying to stay out of the way of the guitarist in front of him.

"The guitarist had a smug look on his face. His brown hiar was to his shoulders and was pulled back with a ratty brown headband. His Van Halen t-shirt looked old and well-worn, while his jeans looked brand new.

As mismatched and odd as the group looked, Miroku's eyes rested on the vocalist and after, they stuck there. Her long chestnut hair was in a high ponytail. Her straight bangs hung almost to her eyes. Even with some distance and a crowd between them, he could see streaks of pink above her eyes. While she was less his type than the vivacious and buxom raven-haired lass who was practically seated in his lap and whispering in his ear, she was quite the catch. She wore black skinny jeans and a Veronica Lodge shirt. Fro the first time Miroku found her most appealing feature not to be her figure, but her voice. That floating, sweet sound that was a cross between Bonnie Tyler's belting 80's voice and Zooey Deschanel's modern crooning.

"I'll be right back," he just managed to hear Takara say as the band stopped for a quiet break.

"Okay." When she left, he stood and made his way to the stage. Not bothering with personal space rules, he tapped the vocalist on the shoulder. As if used to it, she turned around slowly, crossing her arms in the same movement.

"Yes?" He looked her over up close. Her figure, as it turned out, was top notch. His eyes stopped on hers, which were brown and full of amusement.

"Do you have an agent?" The question confused them both, but Mirkou hid his reaction to his own words. He'd had a degree in business thrust upon him by his father, but nothing that was very relevant to this conversation. Still, he continued, "I would willingly represent you." He realized that his words weren't a lie.

"Excuse me?" She looked disbelieving and tilted her head. Her ponytail swished behind her and his eyes followed it. A look of realization passed over her face. "You're drunk."

"Barely," his tone was dry, "but I'm serious." He was. He didn't have any idea where the idea had come from, but he'd use his connections to make it work. Being born into money had it's advantages. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

"It's definitely not sweetheart." Takara was forgotten as they spoke.

That was how it started. He used his connections to get a record deal. The band members Sango Kikaku, InuYasha Saiga, Koga Okami, and Kagome Higurashi became popular, and fast. After this rise to fame, he admitted his fib. They all laughed. His people- skills being what they were, and his not-no-useless business degree allowed him to perform in his role as 'agent' well.

As for his relationship with Sango...

It had started one night when he had received a particularly horrid call from his father, who felt that he was just messing around. He was half-way through a bottle of 151, when she'd walked into the living room Koga's house- where they stayed during their times in Winnipeg.

"What's up?" She asked.

"None of your business, really," his voice slurred slightly when he spoke.

"Oh. Someone's bitchy tonight." She sat down next to him, and using the remote she flipped on the t.v. She turned on the menu, slowly going through the list of of things that were on. "Oh!" He looked up to see what she'd decided on. The show in question was The Sound of Music, and it seemed to have just started. He looked back into his glass, resuming drinking. Then it happened.

Sango began to sing along with the movie. Miroku paused and turned to her. She was as radiant and beautiful as she was whenever she sang, but this had never happened. She'd never sang just for him. He sat silently, gaping at her for the whole movie, his drink forgotten. At the end, he kissed her, and they went back to her room. That was that.

Somewhere along the way he'd begun to call her his angel. She just smiled at him. He wasn't sure why he'd said it, or what it meant for him. A year ago, he'd actually gone with her and she had gotten angel wings tattooed on her back. It was quite the impressive inside joke. The wings were folded and reached from her shoulder blades to her lower back. He'd often run his fingers over the delicate feathers, tracing them with his fingers.

He even found himself doing it sometimes when he was with other women. He pictured the feathers in his memory, and drew them out in invisible ink across fleshy canvasses of countless bed-mates. This was another mystery to him. Why would he do this? Maybe it was the sighs that escaped from their mouths as his fingers caressed their skin, painting an invisible mural.

Basically, he had built the the perfect life. He made enough money on his own now, to not need to rely on his parents. He hadn't spoken to, or seen them for over a year. He liked to keep it that way.

He had made great friends. He and InuYasha shared a liking for video games and horror movies. Kagome loved cooking as much as Miroku loved to eat. Koga, while cocky, had an impressive collection of literature, and was quite intelligent, with strong instincts, that had left Miroku surprised. Then there was Sango.

She was generous with her love and body in a way that he'd never experienced. On top of that, she let him do whatever her felt like. He was never scolded. She never gave him ultimatums, or scowled disapprovingly when he flirted with other women, and sometimes even did it herself. If he didn't come home at night, she wouldn't ask him much. They both knew what was going on, and Sango had accepted as it was, and even seemed to support him. To call her a free spirit would be to put it mildly. He had often been tempted to ask her if her parents were Hippies, and if they had raised her accordingly.

The sound of water from the bathroom stopped, and within moments, Sango stepped o out. A towel was wrapped around her. Steam leaked from the bathroom.

"Get up and shower. You smell like chicken soup," She pointed out, turning to pull some clothes out from her luggage bag. Miroku walked up and wrapped his arms around her her, nuzzling his face into her damp hair.

"How did I end up with such an amazing girl?"

"I've been wondering the same thing myself," she teased, not turning from her search. She pulled out a green corset and glanced over her shoulder. "You'd better shave too." Miroku sighed and released her, taking the hint. With one last glance at her near-naked body, he stepped into the bathroom himself.